


Finally

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble that can be read in either Sherlock or John's voice depending on who you think it is. </p>
<p>The realization of what he's been feeling for him after all this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisKenshin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisKenshin/gifts).



> I needed to warm up before delving into some deeper stuff tonight so here, have this little ficlet and enjoy.

He hadn’t known. He’d swear to his dying day he hadn’t known, at least at first, what this feeling was.

 

It started as an itch. Not the physical kind. The kind that gets under your skin and sits there, tingling, pricking all over your body. It’s phantom pinpoints there and then not there.  It turned into an ache, a want of something, he couldn’t quite place. From an ache to hunger and desperation.  Where it was all he could feel was this hollow space in his gut. His anguished soul, crying inside him.

 

He started to pay attention. The itch would manifest, increasing, near impossible to bear. The hair on the back of his neck would rise, drawn like a magnet to iron. He could almost feel his soul tugging at him, ever in one direction. And always in _his_ presence. The only moments those feelings were sated, were calm, and sighing in pleasure were when _he_ would touch him, would turn those piercing eyes on him, crinkling at the corners when _he_ would smile, a glimmer reserved just for him. _His_ voice would wash over him, a balm for the itch, a meal for the soul, a puzzle piece that would fit in that odd hollow space, and everything would be right and contented.

 

He was seated in his chair when the realization hit, when the dam broke, and then every emotion was accounted for after the flood, that he had to face the facts. That what he was feeling was more than friendship, more than comfortable companions, and flatmates. That he was indeed in love with and needed _him_ more than anyone else he’d ever met.

 

He gasped and reached out for _his_ hand as _he_ walked by.  Something in the way he clung to _his_ hand, told _him_ things had forever changed between them, for the better.  A small smile flitted across _his_ face and the word “Finally” crossed his mind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> An image, by kriskenshin on tumblr, of that final moment.


End file.
